So we’re in hospital this week with Son1*. Last night, it was DH’s turn to do the night shift, so I came home for some much-needed R&R and time off from ‘nurse duties’.

Son2, who I hadn’t seen in a couple of days, welcomed me home with a running hug – ie, he launched himself at me like a torpedo, and wrapped his arms around my neck.

Do pigs rap?

Later, I took him upstairs to bed, and passed his school bag on the staircase. It’s not that I was fearful about what I’d find within, but you know how peering into their school bags is sometimes like opening a Pandora’s box of homework, notes about lost library books, crumpled artwork and permission slips.

But I knew I should check it, so I did (reluctantly). And in the communication book, I saw a note:

“Your child is a PIG in our school assembly.”

(I think to myself, I’m glad he’s not Muslim)

“Please send him to school wearing sunglasses, a medallion and ‘attitude’ clothes (ie, jeans, boots and a t-shirt). The children will be singing a rap song.”

Quite honestly? Styling a rapper pig look. That, I wasn’t expecting!

*Thank you to everyone who’s sent get-well wishes for Son1. Apart from scaring the nurses when the strongest pain medication didn’t work, and getting the surgeon up every half-hour last night from 1am-3.30am (I could have told them they wouldn’t get off lightly!), he is recovering and he’s being incredibly brave. We hope (everything crossed) to be out of hospital in a few days’ time.